all of this in a Baptist church

12-19-99

Had a church gig tonight, playing in the one-on-a-part orchestra for a Christmas cantata. I played my euphonium, read second trombone parts, and all night long I was called "the tuba player." I was billed in the program as a tuba player, probably because I told the conductor I'd play tuba parts. I meant I'd read them on euphonium, but oh well, a gig's a gig.

By the end of the second performance, the orchestra was sagging in the middle. Most of the players were local band directors; the playing chops sort of deteriorate when you don't have time to practice. Very few music teachers could keep it together through a grueling workout like we had today. The choir was out of tune, and it's really taxing on the chops when you constantly have to adjust pitch. As the late performance wore on, there were more intonation problems, more band directors whispering: "Man, this sucks" in a self-deprecating tone, and the rest of us non-teachers were dozing off mid-tune or losing our places in the music.

Weird thing: in the home stretch, just as we were about to start the Finale, the pastor stood up from the front pew and cleared his throat. The conductor put his baton down and the orchestra members glanced at one another. The pastor said a prayer, thanked the performers for the show and thanked Jesus for using the musicians as his instruments. The choir members all bowed their heads and I could hear them whispering, "Thank you Jesus, oh thank you, you're so strong...." etc.

Now, I couldn't have been the only puzzled one in there. This is easily the most pious church I've played in, and that didn't faze me. The strange thing was that the pastor seemed to think that the performance was over. The musicians in the know were going right along with him. It was almost as if they were saying, "We've gone for far too long without thanking Jesus. We just can't wait any longer." After the prayer, the pastor asked the conductor if there was anything he'd like to say. The conductor graciously said, "We'll say it with the Finale."

I just know I'm going to be stricken down for this entry.

We had a meeting between the shows so that the conductor could introduce the orchestra members to the choir. He was going down the row saying things like, "this is Blah-Blah So-and-so, he plays violin with the Macon Symphony," and "What's-her-name plays clarinet, she teaches at at such-and-such middle school." I wondered what he'd say when he got to me. I prayed that he wouldn't introduce me by my day job: "She is a veterinary assistant...." That would suck hard--being a shit-scooper. I think of it as a temporary day-job, not something that defines me. Then, "Brother Ron" doesn't even know I work for a vet. So what would he say? What could he say?

"This is Betsy Jones, our tuba player. She's from Warner Robins and her husband is in the Air Force Band."

What?

What??? I was humiliated. My cute little, embarrassed, "Oh, no, attention!" blush turned to a furious flush of anger. What the hell was he thinking? He introduced me to a group of my colleagues as the wife of someone in The Band.

I had to get over it fast and smile like a good little wife. Never mind that he reduced my existence to being married, playing the tuba, and being "from" Warner Robins. (I'm NOT from Warner Robins, I LIVE IN Warner Robins, and not by choice.)

There were a couple of people there who are in the band with John, but nobody I knew well. One of them I'd met before, he teaches at the church with me and he walked into one of my lessons to introduce himself. The other is a woman I'd seen but not met, a rather unpopular person in the band. She pulls rank regularly in a informally-run squadron where most people don't even know what ranks the others hold. I've heard her play in a few other concerts, too, and I can confidently say she's not as good as she thinks she is.

Anyway, this woman I've only heard stories about came up to me and asked who my "spouse" is. Since she said "spouse," I decided to play a mind game and I said, "Becky," just as if it were perfectly normal for a woman in the Air Force to have a female spouse.

Ha ha. That's a little joke. Had to ease the tension in here.

I told her it was John, and she acted all surprised; I don't think she knew John was married. He's probably not high on her list of People To Think About. Then she asked me if I took his name.

I've told a lot of people that I'm married, and that's generally not the second question they ask. "How long?" is one. "How did you meet?" maybe. But "Oh, so did you keep your name?" Well, maybe she figured since the conductor got my instrument wrong, he might also have gotten my name wrong. Hell, I wouldn't have been surprised by that, either.

As I was running for the door after the service, I remembered something I'd forgotten and turned to go back. I reflex-mumbled "shit!" as I was turning. It was very low, and nobody would have heard me if those two eleven-ish girls weren't running down the church hallway, swerving around people. Just as I turned, they swerved to the side I turned to and started to go around me. I grumbled the word "shit" right over their goofy little heads.

I told myself that they didn't hear it, but as I rounded the corner (I was moving pretty quickly, myself,) I heard their collective gasp and then adolescent hoots of disbelief. Of course, knowing what I'd done, I said "Shit!" again. When I realized I'd said "shit," I said, "Fuck!" and then "Oh! Shit!" Telling myself just to shut up, I said "Shit!" one more time. Fuck.

I'm going straight to hell.